


Utterly

by WithallthisDelusion



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Aggression, Alternate Universe - Medical, Anal Sex, Anger, BDSM, Blood and Gore, Blow Jobs, Boxer John Watson, Choking, Dark, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, First Meetings, Graphic Description, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Insanity, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Major Character Injury, Non-Consensual, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Violence, alternative universe, boxer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 11:02:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22968940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WithallthisDelusion/pseuds/WithallthisDelusion
Summary: John Watson is an underground boxer, and Sherlock is studying to become a nurse.It's inevitable that they'd finally meet.But what isn't taken into consideration is how Sherlock's boyfriend Sebastian seems to be descending into madness. Especially when at the center of his fixation is Sherlock.//The one where Sherlock keeps trying to take care of a bleeding John but needs to keep an eye out for an abusive Sebastian.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes & Sebastian Moran, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/Sebastian Moran
Comments: 6
Kudos: 35





	Utterly

His name was whispered around with silent breaths of paranoia and lust. Temptation and fear circled around the crowd, keeping their eyes to the stage, and their feet on the ground. Even strangers could tell there was something powerful about him, from the narrowness in his eyes to the menace in his confidently clenched hands. There was no doubt that he was dangerous and capable.

He was someone packed with so much fury and determination that it was hard to contain. Many drunken nights left him wondering whether it was his blood staining his hands, or someone else’s. But it was all unproven, covered by lawyers and paychecks. Witnesses silenced and eyes covered. Letting him walk free and unforgiven. As many bodies are laid to rest.

He kept telling himself that tonight would be no different, as he emptied the water bottle over his head. He blinked back the water, letting it dissolve his thoughts and allow him to focus. He could already feel the adrenaline buzzing through his veins as his fingers stung with electricity.

-

Shrunk in the corner was Sherlock Holmes, who wasn’t used to the thumping crowded atmosphere surrounding him. He was used to long nights of studying. But he was finally allowed a night out, and the only person to treat him out for a night was his boyfriend Seb, who had the brilliant idea to fill Sherlock up with a whole bottle of vodka, a shot of cocaine, and then to drag him down the dark alleys and push him inside the thick smog of a rough-looking bar.

Everyone in the bar moved around him like glitter, sparkling eyes and gleaming sweat catching the lights. Sherlock held onto his boyfriend, not daring to let go and risk getting lost.

An animated voice boomed across the room, “Gather your bearings it’s about to get shaky.” Sherlock flinched, clamping a tight hand around Sebastian’s bicep. The twat laughed, hauling him further through the mass of people.

It was complete chaos as Sherlock struggled to stand upright as bodies shoved against him constantly. His head was ringing just from the loud chatter, not to mention the blasting music that drowned out his thoughts. Sebastian leaned into his ear, trying to tell him something. But the words were getting lost. “What?” Sherlock shouted, trying his hardest to understand his boyfriend.

Sebastian rolled his grey eyes, suddenly grabbing Sherlock’s jaw and hauling him into a deep kiss. Sherlock froze up, prying Sebastian’s hands off his face as he struggled to pull away. He threw a panicked glance around the room, worried that the crowd in here wouldn’t take well to seeing two men kissing.

Sherlock knew that Seb was just taking the piss, trying to make him even more nervous in a place like this. Sherlock didn’t normally worry about what everyone else would think, but he didn’t want to cause any trouble that could have been easily avoided.

The starting bell rung out, sending the crowd into cheers as the lights flickered before an emerging figure appeared. “Ladies and brutes, savages and gents. Welcome to Vince’s ring. Have we got a hell of a night set for you?” The announcer chuckled darkly into the microphone. “We’ve got Angus Rehlim all the way from Exeter. Let’s hope he travels back home in one piece.” There was a sickening chorus of boos surrounding Sherlock as he sent Sebastian an uneasy look. He was returned with a lopsided grin and shrug. “Then… the one all you girls… and guys have been creaming over. We have for you ladies and gentlemen, John fucking Watson.”

The ground started shaking from the shouts and cheers, as the crowd jumped closer. The announcer waved his arm behind him, as two figures slipped underneath the railing. Sherlock took in the startling difference. There was a massively tall man, holding about 50kg of muscles on each of his arms. He stared ahead, looking deadly. He had thick tattoos inked all over his skin, staining his arms and chest with symbols of pain and death. Sherlock was pretty certain that he would be the one walking away unharmed from this fight.

The second fighter didn’t seem to belong there, he was shorter and younger. He had well clipped blonde hair that framed his stern face. His chest was bare, showing off his slightly tanned skin. He was littered with scars, the most noticeable was an ugly weaving of thick scar tissue going through his chest. He had firm blue eyes that remained glued to the back wall of the bar. He was strong and muscular, yet compared to the mammoth standing next to him, Sherlock doubted he would survive the fight.

“Now boys, let’s keep it clean. No teeth. No claws. If you feel like God is calling your name, then raise your hand to surrender.” Both participants nodded in agreement. Sherlock leaned up on his toes, trying to catch more of the younger boxer. Only to be shoved back by a bulky guy, downing a can of beer. Sherlock subtly huddled up towards Sebastian, as his boyfriend easily slipped an arm over his shoulders, pulling him closer into his side. Sherlock tried to hide his discomfort as Seb held him tightly, making Sherlock feel trapped as they both watched the fight slowly play out. 

Normally after a few drinks, Sebastian would become more touchy than usual, he wouldn’t hesitate to grab and hold Sherlock down. Telling him what he thought about him, whispering dirty things into his ear, as he would inject the perfect 7% solution into his veins. Their disastrous relationship would be driven either with complete chaos or control. But there would never be a bearable balance.

The crowd cheered, as the bell rung out again. The room was tense, as the two boxers circled around each other, their fists were bound with tape and their feet hopped off the mat. Sherlock managed to catch sight of the scarred boxer, his hair had gotten wild from moving about, making him lose his exterior of control, as his light eyes remained narrowed on his opponent. John seemed dangerous, the look plastered across his face, was one that Sherlock would be terrified to receive.

The first punch was thrown by the larger guy, as it was quickly dodged before the younger man counteracted it with rapid hits to his chest. Sherlock stared with disbelief at how fast the blonde man moved, he was landing punches so quickly that the other guy barely had a chance to recover.

So many voices shouted with a mix of encouragement and argument from the crowd, as the fight began. The large man standing beside Sherlock was booing and waving his hands around angrily, nearly whacking Sherlock in the face. Until the beefy boxer threw a strong punch against John’s jaw, snapping his head back, as he stumbled on his feet. Sebastian’s arm tightened around Sherlock’s shoulder, as he flinched at the sight.

The larger boxer didn’t hold back as he continued to swing at John’s stomach. Sherlock couldn’t watch, he didn’t want to see the handsome man get mushed into a bleeding pile of bones.

It didn’t help that Sherlock was studying to become a nurse, he knew too much about the damage of hits on the brain, not to mention the general concern of broken bones and open wounds. The younger man was hit again, this time to the other side of his jaw. Sherlock ducked his head into Sebastian’s shoulder. He could feel his boyfriend’s hand instantly move to clamp around his neck, holding him in place. The seemingly soothing gesture only managed to do the opposite, as Sherlock felt trapped against him.

Sherlock could feel the strong muscles underneath Sebastian’s shirt, his firm body felt terrifying next to his. He knew what that body was capable of, too many times he had been underneath it. He tried to steer clear of thoughts about what Sebastian could do to him, knowing what was normally waiting for him each time he visited Seb’s place. Sherlock titled his head up, trying to escape his intoxicating scent. 

Then a shout of cheers erupted as a bell rung furiously. Sherlock tensed, unable to look away from the fight any longer. He yanked his head out of Seb’s grip, twisting in his grasp as he finally took in the sight of the younger boxer standing victorious above the other one. His bruised chest was panting, his eyes still glued to his opponent with menace as bloodied saliva dripped off his chin.

“What happened?” Sherlock shouted at Seb, curious to understand how the entire fight seemed to be flipped upside down. 

Sebastian pushed his lips against his ear, trying to be heard over all the cheering, “John Watson head-butted him, knocked the fucker out.” Having Seb so close sent a chill down Sherlock’s spine, as he watched the young boxer. Sherlock was trying to understand how he even reached the taller guy’s head. He bit his lip, taking in the sight of John as he caught his breath, he was truly terrifying. Like a wave that ends up being a tsunami, it was unexpected. But there was something beautiful about his hidden power, about the vengeance buried underneath his skin. Sherlock was curious to know what built a man up like that. What kind of history had to be imprinted into his soul, to make him feel like inflicting that much pain onto someone.

The announcer was on the floor, checking Angus’s breathing, he was weak but still alive. He was knocked out though, and probably wouldn’t promise another fight tonight. The announcer stood proudly, “The winner is… John Watson!” The crowd erupted in distasteful cheers, bitterness biting in the edge of their screams. “Next round, we will have our little Egyptian Prince Masika up here against John.”

Seb’s arm slipped off Sherlock’s shoulder, as John walked off the stage, and Angus was dragged.

The room fell into a quiet buzz, interrupted by the occasional chant. Sherlock was still trying to understand how anyone could stick around to watch another round of boxing when Sebastian caught his attention. “Did you want a drink?” He offered, reaching in his back pocket. Sherlock nodded keenly, prepared to follow him. “Wait stay here. Don’t want to lose our spot.”

Sherlock stood awkwardly as he watched Sebastian weed himself through the dense crowd. The young nurse was mushed between too many beefy guys, and it didn’t help that he was trying to reminiscent without Sebastian’s looming presence over him. Trying to enjoy it as much as he could in a place like this. He never thought he would witness something so violent. He was used to seeing the after-effects of a beating, not so much the making of it. Sebastian, on the other hand, was always rough even when giving a hug, he couldn’t help but squeeze a little too tight and pat his back a little too hard.

Sometimes Sebastian would slap Sherlock’s thigh, just to get his attention. Or grab him and shove him around. Sherlock had tried to tell him off, had tried to delete his phone number and completely shut him out. But Sebastian had a way of wiggling back into his life. It didn’t help that Sebastian was studying cybersecurity, and he had a gift at finding Sherlock when he didn’t want to be found. He would show up at his lectures, follow him home and constantly offer him something to help him get through the late nights. Sherlock has never had to pay for the drugs, and he didn’t intend on starting.

Sebastian would normally invite Sherlock over to his place, a small room connected to the university. Even though Sherlock had his own place, on the other side of the campus. Seb once asked Sherlock to move in with him, but Sherlock was terrified that he would be found dead and overdosed if he ever did that. On the nights that he dared himself to stay over with Sebastian, they always ended roughly. With Sebastian’s hand tangled in Sherlock’s hair, and his cock stuffed down the boy’s throat. Most of the time Sherlock would be too high to recognise the pain, but the next day he would lose his voice and limp his way to classes. 

A drunk patron wobblingly next to him bumped Sherlock out of his thoughts, as they spilled half their drink down his nice jeans. Sherlock frowned at the dark beer chilling his leg, trying to flick it off from his shoe. This was definitely not his scene; he rarely went out for anything that wasn’t dinner or groceries. Maybe Seb would enjoy getting a drink somewhere quieter, Sherlock scratched the back of his neck, hating how close everyone stood to him. He wondered how many more drinks Sebastian would need before he would be too drunk to try anything on him tonight.

It was a strange kind of atmosphere here, the complete opposite to the hospital where Sherlock did his work placement. Instead of silent tears and mumbled concerns, there were shouts and cheers at the sight of fractured jaws and bleeding eyes. Sherlock most definitely did not belong here, even with his sick fascination with injuries.

Staring off at the railing, surrounding the dark concrete ring, Sherlock worried about Angus, wondering if this underground boxing championship had medical staff. He was only a few weeks off becoming fully qualified, already having a job lined up at the Royal Prince Alfred Hospital.

“You thinking sober thoughts, Sherly?” A voice shouted from behind him, Sherlock spun around, wide-eyed. Seb grinned softly back at him, “Here.” He pushed a plastic cup in his hand.

Sherlock smiled, sipping his beer, relieved that they didn’t serve their drinks in glass at a place like this. “Thanks. How long until the next one?” He tried to ask casually. His boyfriend shrugged, downing half his beer. “Did you want to skip it and go to another pub instead?” Sherlock urged.

With an unimpressed scowl, Seb was silenced by the dimming lights and screaming crowd. The second match was beginning.

Sherlock took a large swig of his beer, his throat feeling dry at the sight of ‘John ‘fucking’ Watson’ stepping into the ring. The boxer seemed tired, his shoulders resting heavily by his side as he looked numbly into the audience. Sherlock leaned up on his toes, to get a better look at the tightening skin on his stomach and jaw that had a lovely pink tint. He knew his blood would be pushing to fill out the injured spots, to start swelling underneath his skin, before darkening and stinging with each small movement. He was going to have some painful bruises in the morning.

The fight started quickly, John lunged into his hit, already causing the Egyptian prince to go all woozy. Sebastian was getting lost in it, jumping with each second that passed, throwing his drink back and even reaching for Sherlock’s, not that he minded.

Sherlock wanted to step back with each hit, as everyone else would step forward. He was caught in the crowd’s tidal wave of sticky, sweaty bodies. Sebastian’s back was pressed into his chest, his presence seemed to anchor him into reality, it felt too real that this world existed so close to his.

The young nurse was breathing heavily, his head becoming faint as he couldn’t look away from the fight. He watched as John was plummeted by hits and kicks, he could see the stagger in his movements and the hitch in his breath. He was worried that this was the type of thing Sebastian would be inspired by. He was suddenly taken out of his thoughts, as he heard a sick crunching sound. His whole body froze, as his blood ran cold. That sound sparked him with fear, as he stared up at the two boxers, desperate to place the injury.

John stood firmly, his eyes hard and his lips pressed together tightly. The Egyptian prince seemed drunk, as he wobbled on his legs, staring down at his hands in amazement, as they caught the blood leaking from his nose. John waited, shoulders pulled back for another swing, but it wasn’t necessary as the other boxer, raised a bloody hand in surrender.

The bloodthirsty crowd cheered, everyone knowing John’s name by now. “I’m scared to send another boxer out tonight, wouldn’t want him dead.” The announcer spoke, as Sherlock slipped underneath the rope and out of sight. “Thank you for being such a vibrant crowd, take care you lovely people and return next week for more fun like this.” 

“Fuck it’s finished.” Sebastian turned to mutter in Sherlock’s ear, causing tingles to shoot down his spine. Sherlock tried to concentrate on what he was saying. “Let’s just get pissed.” All of a sudden, his boyfriend had slipped a hand into his and was tugging him through the crowd towards the bar.

Sherlock stiffened, “Seb, I’m here to get a break from everything medical, let’s try to avoid ending up at hospital please.”

“Come on…” Sebastian groaned as he dragged Sherlock into a seat by the bar. Sherlock gulped nervously, as Sebastian fished out a crumpled pile of notes from his pocket. “Four beers, love.” He addressed to the bartender.

Against Sherlock’s warnings, they both downed a few more drinks.

-

John hated the sweat and dried blood that clung to his skin, almost begging for him to finish the job. He yanked a t-shirt over his head, desperate to get away from this place. It always fucked with his head. It all felt different, everything that was bad behaviour was just the currency around here. Everyone tried to speak his language, and he hated how well he spoke it.

“You going to be here next week?” Jameson asked, twirling up the cable connected to the microphone.

A sharp sting followed his tensed neck as John faced the announcer with a wince, “If you’ve got anyone for me.”

He chuckled, “Yeah I doubt we’ll have a line up after watching you hammer those men tonight.”

John shrugged stretching out his back, as a headache threatened to blackout his eyes. He limped his way towards the showers, carefully checking himself over. Noticing a lot more bruises than he could feel. He wiggled his way out of the underground bar, blinking back his pain. Angus had got him good, managing to knock his head around. His jaw was so tense, and he could barely move it. His teeth were slick with blood, and he could taste it all the way up to the back of his throat.

-

Sebastian slammed his glass against the counter, his wet lips were pulled into a wide grin as Sherlock was still struggling to finish his own drink. “I love watching you swallow.” Seb smirked, leaning forward and licking a stripe over Sherlock’s neck as the boy continued to drink. Sherlock ended up giggling, sputtering his drink everywhere.

“That tickles.” Sherlock whined, abandoning his drink on the bench, as he found himself in Sebastian’s arms, being lifted to his feet. 

“Come on, let’s finish up at home.” Sebastian whispered into his ear, as Sherlock tried to understand what he meant by home. He couldn’t imagine a place that would ever be theirs.

Sherlock managed to get halfway towards the exit, before he stumbled over Sebastian, his boyfriend’s arms catching him from hitting the ground. “You’re gonna have a hell of a hangover tomorrow.” Sebastian chuckled, holding onto him tightly.

Sherlock clawed at his chest, clinging onto him as he put most of his weight in Seb’s arms. “I can walk.” Sherlock murmured, trying to put his lanky feet out in front of him.

Sebastian pressed a kiss to his cheek, “No you can’t, love.” He said, wrapping the boy’s arm over his shoulder and carrying him out of the bar.

They stepped outside, as Sebastian continued to hold Sherlock. An uneasy feeling tied itself around the nurse’s gut, as he tried to concentrate on putting his feet in front of himself while Seb steered them away from the bar.

A few streets over, Sebastian suddenly pushed Sherlock against a brick wall, letting him lean his head back as the boy groaned. The cool air felt refreshing, as the quiet street almost cleared Sherlock’s weary head. He could feel the alcohol soaking up his thoughts. “You’re so wasted.” Sebastian pointed out, readjusting Sherlock’s shirt where it had gotten misplaced from their walk. As the nurse giggled, his cheeks a rosy pink.

“No, you are.” Sherlock mumbled, letting his eyes fall closed, as he felt Seb’s hand move to his waist, pulling him up against his body.

The feeling of Seb’s hips pushed up against Sherlock’s stopped the boy’s thoughts, his boyfriend’s firm cock was pressing insistently against the tight expanse of his jeans. Sherlock sobered up quickly, snapping his eye open at Sebastian. “You’re so gorgeous.” Seb whispered, his grey eyes focused hazily onto Sherlock’s, as he wet his lips tasting the beer on them. Slowly, Seb’s eyes fell down towards Sherlock’s mouth. His pink lips parted, “I’ve been in love with you, ever since I first laid eyes on you.”

Sherlock felt sick, the air around him instantly became suffocating. As he tried to formulate a sentence but found the words stuck in his throat. He couldn’t think of any words that would change the outcome of what Seb had planned for them. It was in the explorative pressure of Sebastian’s hands and the ignorance in his eyes. Sherlock didn’t want to fight him, instead he gave him a tight-lipped smile. 

Seb sent him a grin, before leaning forward and bringing their lips together. His tongue easily dived into Sherlock’s mouth, seeking out his taste and choking him with desperation. Sherlock leaned back, trying to create more space between them. But Sebastian tightened his hold on Sherlock’s hips, slamming him against the wall again. As the breath was knocked out of the boy’s chest.

He instantly felt trapped, as Sherlock tried to pry Seb’s hands away from his body. “Come on.” Seb grunted, slipping a hand down the front of his boyfriend’s jeans. Sherlock was panicking, wondering if he was hallucinating, maybe there was something in the cheap beer. Sherlock’s cheeks were flushed a beautiful pink, bringing out the fear in his dark eyes. His messy hair was draped over his forehead, as the column of his throat peeked out of his shirt. Sebastian was mesmerised by the sight, sucking kisses over his throat and circling his hand around Sherlock’s soft dick. “So beautiful.” Seb breathed in between kisses.

Sherlock whined uncomfortably, knowing that Sebastian could never be gentle. That this was just going to end with Sherlock on his knees. “Sebastian stop.” Sherlock argued, grabbing his boyfriend’s wrist to try to remove his hand from down his pants. Sebastian began to stroke him even harder, as Sherlock’s blood rushed down south. His head was feeling all fuzzy, as his hands felt numb. He gave up trying to remove Sebastian’s hand, and instead, he started shoving him away. “Stop!”

Sebastian chuckled, lifting his head up and meeting Sherlock’s worried gaze. “Shh baby, it’s okay.” He murmured, “Why don’t you get my cock out and start working it, hmm?” Seb asked. 

“No-“ Sherlock’s voice was cut off, as Sebastian shoved his forearm against the nurse’s windpipe. His eyes dark and serious, as his arm crushed the strained muscles in the boy’s neck.

With shaking fingers, Sherlock reached for Sebastian’s zipper. He undid it quickly and screwed his eyes shut as he pushed his hand past the waistband of his underwear. Seb moaned softly, letting his head fall against his boyfriend’s shoulder.

Sherlock was shivering as he stroked Sebastian within the tight expanse of his jeans, being careful to not scratch his cock on the cool metal zip. Sherlock breathed in the cologne staining Sebastian’s neck, it was the same scent that drew him into Seb in the first place. It was the combination of sea salt and forests, underlined with Sebastian’s natural musk. Sherlock tried to focus on the rhythm, trying to think of another time when he didn’t mind doing this sort of thing. When he actually craved it.

Sebastian released his arm from Sherlock’s neck, instead of letting his hand trail down his stomach, as it slipped along his firm chest, he could feel his muscles tensing underneath his touch. Sebastian continued to stroke Sherlock’s dick, as it expanded in Seb’s grasp.

“Please Seb.” Sherlock begged, feeling his hips involuntarily push forward, chasing his touch. Sherlock didn’t want to give his boyfriend the satisfaction, as he could feel the heat building up in his groin. “Stop.”

The lighter-haired man grunted, leaning in closer as he lifted his hand up to rest against Sherlock’s neck. The once intimate gesture quickly tightened into a violent hold around his throat. With Seb’s fingertips pushing deeply into his tensed muscle, his touch burning Sherlock’s neck as it suffocated him.

The friction on his dick increased, as everything flooded through the nurse’s brain. Sherlock tried to gasp in a breath, staring into his boyfriend’s wide eyes. His grey eyes seemed almost black, with a surge of anger buried deeply into his dark hues. Sherlock could barely move his hand along Sebastian’s cock, as the air escaped him. His heart was beating so loudly in his ears that he couldn’t hear anything else.

Sebastian tightening his hand around his boyfriend’s neck, cutting off the weak flow of air. Sherlock stuttered, feeling his head swim and his brain began to scatter, as his lungs burned.

The nurse closed his eyes, the image of Sebastian was imprinted into his brain, even with his eyes closed he could still see his gritted teeth and glaring frown. The feel of Seb’s hand on his throat and one around his cock, swamped Sherlock’s blood thick with pleasure and pain, edging him closer and making him feel almost guilty as his orgasm built up.

-

His fists were still stinging, the never-ending ache in his shoulders playing up as he tried to walk towards the car park. Tired weary eyes scanned the streets, blessed for the silence and privacy. John’s whole body was screaming with each step, something warm was dripping down his chest, probably blood.

The boxer’s eyes would lose focus every now and then, the darkness swallowing up his vision as his steps turned sideways. The ground escaping his feet and suddenly meeting his knees. He grunted, the sound almost startling him, as he began to choke, the sounds echoing around his ears. He ran a hand down his throat, as it came back sticky with red. A silent mumble escaped his lips, “Please.” His voice was dry, lost in heavy panting. He could hear the scuff of shoes, and the wheeze of a struggle.

But he was late to notice that it wasn’t him making the noises.

He dragged himself towards the end of the street, lifting himself against the wall, before heaving himself up onto his feet. He tilted himself around the corner, barely lifting his head as the noises became louder.

John wondered whether a bit of his skull had cracked off and was rattling around. He took in a deep breath, feeling the sting in his lungs, where his bruised ribs fought to cooperate. He staggered closer, starting to hear the weakening gasps of someone being choked. John spat out the blood that filled his mouth, straightening up and drawing his shoulders back.

Walking with as much confidence and control as possible, John approached the scuffling couple. They had their hands down each other’s pants, yet one of them had a death grip around the other’s throat. Intending to harm.

His chest tightened as he could taste the blood coating his teeth. John drew in a wheezy breath. “Oi!” He shouted, surprised as the guy choking his friend continued but gave John an annoyed glare. “Put the poor fucker down.”

  
Seb’s grey eyes narrowed on the approaching stranger before he recognised the clean-cut expression etched into his face. “How lovely of you to join us.” He threw a glance down at the struggling Sherlock. “I’m sure you’re the expert at this type of thing.” Seb chuckled darkly. “Want to take over?”

Frowning deeply, John tried to ignore the jab, instead he stepped even closer. “You two come from the fight?”

Sebastian Moran grinned wide, “We did indeed.”

“Well if you were looking for a first-hand experience, I can give you one.” John threatened, knowing that he was in no state to play fair. The poor sod would end up in the back of a hearse. “Come on, let your friend go. Clearly, he was trying to give you a good time anyway.” The boxer indicated to their lingering hands.

Moran chuckled, giving Sherlock a firm stroke as the boy gasped, trembled and spilled into his hand. Seb let go of Sherlock’s dick, wiping his cum on his jeans, as he stared up into his boyfriend’s vague face. The anger that had suddenly burst out from Seb’s chest was beginning to dwindle, his boyfriend’s calm features made him feel almost guilty. Almost. Seb let him go, as Sherlock dropped to the floor. Thumping to the hard-concrete, as it startled his dark blue eyes open, his head floating around as he tried to focus his eyes ahead of him. His lungs heaving in air.  
  
“Fine.” Moran sneered, his fingers stinging from being clenched around the nurse’s throat so tightly. He turned away, striding down the alley and back to the street. Trying to create space from Sherlock and his actions. Not letting the reality of what he had just done sink in. He didn’t want to believe that he could have done that to someone he loved.

John watched him walk off before he staggered his way towards the dizzy man. The poor sod’s dick was half out of his jeans, and still too much on show for John’s liking. “Seb?” The stranger whined. As John cautiously pulled his underwear up, then carefully zipped him back in. By this time Sherlock was blinking up at him, John paused, startled by the curious look of innocence that the man had. He didn’t look like he belonged half hanging out in a dodge alleyway, he looked like someone sweet and caring. He looked young, maybe early twenties or so, with a fine dusting of stubble along his jaw.

“Are you okay?”

John blinked, his tongue felt funny as he struggled to reply. “Uh, yeah, I’m more meant to be asking you that.” John chuckled.

The boy before him sat up, reaching out for John’s face. The boxer flinched, instinctively moving away from his touch. “You’re bleeding. Badly.” The dark-haired nurse stated, sounding out of breath, as he shuffled closer to inspect his injuries. He tilted John’s chin up, examining the blood dribbling down his neck and the front of his chest. He followed the trail up, finding the blood spilling from his ear. “You need to go to the hospital.” Sherlock stated, slowly pulling his fingers back towards himself, as he began to notice that his fingertips were numb. He stared confused at his hand, testing out its strength.

“I think you do as well.” John stated.

Sherlock jumped, forgetting that there was someone in front of him, he frowned down at himself, trying to remember what he had said to him. “I think I need a doctor.” He murmured.

John continued staring at the bewildered boy, half terrified and intrigued. He understood exactly how the stranger felt, he had been left in the streets, feeling lost and confused many times before, but had never had someone worry over him. He cautiously pulled out his phone, tossing up the idea of calling an ambulance. It wouldn’t look good if an underground boxer was seen loading someone into an ambulance. A splash of blood landed on the glass of his phone, he wiped it on his pants as he pocketed his mobile. 

When the boxer looked back up, he was met eye to eye with the stranger. Once again, the dark-haired man was staring over his injuries. “So they don’t have medical staff, do they?” He asked. Chuckling, John shook his head. It was probably the only thing you wouldn’t be able to find in a bar like that. “You need to put ice on that.” Sherlock murmured, looking at the bruise forming underneath John’s eye.

The boxer chuckled, “You’re a bit of a doctor, you know that?”

Sherlock shrugged, placing his hands beside himself as he attempted to stand up. John quickly had his hands underneath his arms, carefully lifting him to his feet. Sherlock wobbled, as everything felt fuzzy, his head ringing and his eyes were swimming. “Come on, Prince Alfred’s ER isn’t far.” The boxer said, cautiously leading Sherlock out of the alley.

They staggered down the street. John hissed in pain, as his shoulder grated along his collar bone, each step was sending shockwaves up his legs and jarring into his knees. He really wanted to get home, get to bed and hopefully wake up the next day. But he was determined to get the boy off the streets, in case anyone or his friend Seb returned.

“Only three blocks to go.” John mumbled as Sherlock sent a look over at him. He was distracted by the soft puffs of his breath, as John attempted to keep himself and Sherlock upwards. The boxer’s skin felt warm underneath Sherlock’s hand, his smell of sweat and blood had him buzzing with adrenaline. He wondered how many times John had been in this situation, stumbling out of the bar and almost bleeding to death. Sherlock frowned as his head throbbed in pain, Sebastian must have been too rough again, banging his head around. He was lucky to have been found, he wouldn’t want to be left in a back alley somewhere.

Eventually, curiosity got the better of John, as he looked over to the boy. “So who was the guy you were with?” He wondered.

Sherlock frowned, trying to remember. “I was with my boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?” John huffed, shaking his head. “No, it couldn’t have been.” Sherlock remained silent, as John’s mind raced. “Seb?” John asked, “Is that his name?” Remembering the first thing Sherlock had said to him.

Sherlock smiled faintly, “Yeah. Sebastian.” He shuffled closer underneath the boxer’s arm, as he held onto John’s hand. The older man nodded, his stomach sinking as he worried about what Seb could have done to the boy if he hadn’t interrupted them.

The boxer was wheezing, his chest barely expanding. He was being half dragged and half carried. He wished he didn’t let that Angus get a good jab at him, his punches were too heavy, and he was easily crushed underneath them. 

Sherlock frowned as he felt something wet on his shoulder, he moved his fingers to wipe it off, frowning when he looked back at his bloodied fingers. He panicked, lifting his eyes back to the boxer as their steps became slower and fewer. John could just spot the entrance of the hospital as they rounded the corner. He moved them towards the brick wall, making sure they could both stand on their own feet. “Come on, we’re almost there.” The dark-haired man said as he watched John catch his breath.

“I’ll follow you in.” John said, trying to calm the stranger. Even though they could both barely walk.

“How about I go get you some help.” Sherlock slurred, his blue eyes burning with care as he waited for John to agree.

The boxer glanced at the stranger, nodding as he felt the tendons in his neck complain. Sherlock wobbled without the support, but he slowly stumbled his way inside the hospital.

John watched him leave, sighing as he pushed off from the wall and started walking the other way. He grunted at the pain shooting through his whole body. He couldn’t walk inside a hospital without it disrupting his career. Without it costing him all his savings. Without it reminding him what kind of permanent damage his work was doing to him.

Sherlock only made it a few meters inside the hospital before a pair of nurses had him sitting in the waiting bay, as they inspected the blood staining his shirt. “It’s not mine.” He tried to reassure them, as he attempted to stand up again. “Please, there’s someone outside, he needs help.” One of the nurses agreed to go check, as she disappeared outside the front. She shortly returned without any sight of John. The young man was guided inside the emergency room, as he tried to look out the large windows for the boxer, but he was nowhere to be seen.


End file.
